


Ya'aburnee

by RivetingFabrications



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingFabrications/pseuds/RivetingFabrications
Summary: “Please,” he forces out, reduced to begging as the syringe fills with blood. “Give him back.”A smirk. The needle pulls from his flesh. A crimson droplet spills to the floor. The hands leave him, falling away like shadows.“I’m afraid your Timothy is long gone.”





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueFlameBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFlameBird/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS OR WHATEVER OTHER AWESOME HOLIDAY YOU CELEBRATE. *gasps for breath then passes out*
> 
> This monsterpiece is for [blueflamebird](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFlameBird/pseuds/BlueFlameBird/) I hope you enjoy and have an awesome xmas and new year :3

“You can’t do this,” Jason says, tinged with more than a little desperation. His wrists, already rubbed raw from the shackles encasing them, twist to grip the chains leaving him hanging from the ceiling just enough that he’s forced to his toes. He feels – he feels rank, disgusting, he can’t remember the last time he’s bathed or showered.

“But I can.” Icy blue eyes gaze at him evenly. “It was great fortitude that we finally crossed paths.”

“Fuck you!” he yells, thrashing desperately, but a calm nod from the man standing in front of him has people clothed in black gripping him, forcing him to still, his bound arms and legs pulling taut against the chains.

“Really, out of all his sons, you were always the failure,” sighs the man in emerald gold. “Nevertheless, I may still have a use for you.” He produces a syringe from the folds of his cloak, striding towards Jason.

The pain of the needle lancing through his skin is nothing compared to the last ten years, to the entirety of Jason’s life, but all he can focus on are the twin pools of calm in the irises of his lover’s eyes.

“Please,” he forces out, reduced to begging as the syringe fills with blood. “Give him back.”

A smirk. The needle pulls from his flesh. A crimson droplet spills to the floor. The hands leave him, falling away like shadows.

“I’m afraid your Timothy is long gone.” The smile makes Jason’s heart ache; what had once been his cherishment, his happiness – it’s distorted now, the expression too wrong, a sharp sneer curled upwards victoriously – and belongs only to Ra’s al Ghul. “He’s mine now.”

~*~*~*~*~

The satellite. The beginning of the end. The light in the darkness. Stars were impossible to see now, the atmosphere too polluted by the smoky haze that now encompassed the earth.

Gotham had crumbled, the final bastion when an intergalactic alliance – whatever that had been, had declared Earth far too dangerous, humanity a stain on the fabric of the universe. They had laid waste to the land, set humanity centuries back – and disappeared, their job completed.

Too few answers. Too many questions. And one by one, the Justice League had sacrificed themselves, upholding the values they espoused with their dying breath, until Batman had fallen too, the last of them.

That had been ten years ago.

The satellite had been a sign. People were _rebuilding_. Somewhere out in the wretched wasteland, where vagabonds and thieves and villains and former good men drifted like former ghosts of themselves, humanity was rising from the ashes.

In the freezing wind and the barren moor, Jason had gazed up at the sky, the flicker of man-made illumination peering through the blackness. Licked his lips.

It’d been so long since he’d last seen a person that wasn’t a corpse or a skull. Shrugging his pack onto his shoulders, he walked onwards, the eerie howl of the wind his only companion.

~*~*~*~*~

Jason jolts upwards with a start, gasping for breath as he immediately struggles with the chains binding him once more. He doesn’t know how much time has passed since his imprisonment, except for the periodic intervals in which blood is extracted from him. However, before he can dwell on it, a man fully garbed in black approaches him warily, producing a key from the depths of his sleeves.

“ _If I take your chains off, will you comply_?” he asks, and it takes Jason several seconds to comprehend the words; it has been _years_ since he last heard Arabic spoken.

“ _No_ ,” he snarls back in their tongue, and the man only glowers at him before two more appear, candlelight giving them form and substance before they wrestle him into submission, forcing him to walk through endless corridors. Jason can feel the passageway gradually sloping up, twists and turns making his head spin until there’s a row of steps, a metal railing guiding the way that he’s forced up and through the door until he finds himself in a building, cavern walls replaced by simple paneling and wooden flooring. He doesn’t have time to inspect his surroundings as he’s marched into a room – his eyes widen in wonderment.

There’s a clear, almost shining porcelain bathtub in the center of the room, filled with steaming water that looks _heavenly_. As far as he can see, it’s the only thing in the room save for a few amenities like soap and toiletries and neatly folded clothes set aside in the corner. For Jason, it looks far more luxurious than even Wayne Manor in his shuttered, jaded memories, but it’s evident that the room’s been purposefully cleared so that he has no access to anything that could be used as a makeshift weapon.

“Make yourself presentable,” orders the first man as Jason’s irons are released. They fall with a heavy clang onto the floor. “The Demon’s Head wishes to have an audience with you.”

Jason sneers at him, fingers coaxing circulation back into his hands from where the chains had drawn tight about his wrists, rubbing them raw when he fought against them. “I guess his old bones couldn’t handle the rot down there, could he?” he retorts spitefully, but there’s an unsubtle roll of the man’s eyes as the three men retreat as one, the key turning in the lock from the outside, leaving Jason to plot their untimely demise.

Still. The water isn’t getting any warmer – he suspects that running water is still a luxury, probably wasted on the likes of him anyway, in Ra’s _oh-so_ -esteemed opinion. Shucking off the grimy excuses for clothes he’d been wearing since forever, Jason hesitantly dips his feet in the tub. A surprised groan falls from his lips, the heated water nearly shocking. He slowly sinks into the water, soaking the weary aches and the stiffness from his muscles and bones.

Though it’s difficult to truly relax due to the knowledge that there are probably henchmen blocking any escape routes he might try, the hot water beckons him. Jason closes his eyes, body slipping into the bathwater until only his eyes, nose, and knees peek above its surface. Letting the water ease away the tension and the stress away, Jason floats aimlessly, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

He has a sinking feeling he might know why Ra’s is requesting a formal audience with him no longer as a prisoner, but (probably) as a guest. Yet what frustrates Jason is that no matter how he analyzes the situation, he doesn’t know whether it’d be a bad offer – and with Ra’s it’s _always_ an offer – and if he has the willpower to refuse out of pride or desperation.

Unwillingly, his thoughts trail back to the same face, over and over again. Crystal blue eyes with depths more bottomless than the Lazarus pits, an ordinary face with overwhelming intelligence –

“Fuck,” hisses Jason, purposefully banging the back of his head against the tub. “Don’t – don’t think about it,” he tells himself.

 _“Starfire –_ bzz _– don’t turn back for me.”_

_“You can’t be fucking serious, Red!” Jason yelled over the crackling intercom, wavelength crumbling with interference. "Pull out! It’s not worth it! Gotham’s a goner. She’s burning.”_

_“This is – this is what I’ve trained my whole life for. This –_ crrsh _– moment, Hood,” replied Tim – stupid Tim, frustrating Tim, stubborn, beautiful,_ perfect _Tim. “What we all have. This is –_ bzzt _– what Batman trained us for.”_

_“Starfire, turn around,” snarled Jason, trying to tear himself from her grasp. “I have to – I have to –”_

_“I can’t,” cried Kori, flying at breakneck speed. “I was too late to save Arsenal – I won’t let you do this.”_

_“Get him to Tamaran. Your –_ brrzt _– ship is in orbit, right? Have the refugees we’ve gathered up finished boarding?”_

_“Yes,” answered Kori, all but choking back tears. Jason heard the palpable despair in her voice. “We are cloaked; the invasion does not know we are here. If word gets out that Tamaran broke neutrality -” she didn’t finish her statement._

_“I’ll maintain the –_ crrr _– distraction for as long as possible. Jay,” he said, and Jason hated how Tim’s voice audibly softened even through the metallic radio crackle, “I love you.”_

_“Fucker!” snapped Jason, heart splintering at the knowledge that Tim was abandoning field protocol for codenames before the imminent attack. “You’re going to win. You’re going to fucking survive so that I can come back and find you, got it? I’m the only one allowed to beat the hell out of you.”_

_An old confession Tim had made once years ago, in the bloody dawn of a drug cartel felled that ended with two infamous kingpins taken into custody, rises to the surface._ “You don’t get it, Jason. My survival….is _never_ a condition for winning.”

“ _Live. Red Robin out.”_ _The connection severed. Radio static. Jason screamed as Kori wrestled him into the makeshift teleporter. The hum of it activating preluded the instant when everything turned to light._

Jason gasps, head breaking the surface of the water, jarred by the sound of successive hard raps against the door.

“Are you all right?” calls a voice. Jason frantically attempts to steady his ragged breaths, running through a mental checklist - pupils dilated, pulse pounding, adrenaline coursing.

“I – I’m fine!” he yells back, voice echoing off the bathroom walls. “Just, you know – good bath.”

Amusement is palpable in Tim’s – Ra’s’ voice. “That is good to hear. See to it that you don’t drown.” His footsteps pad away.

Jason hurries after that, the water already turning lukewarm. By the time he steps out of the soapy tub, it’s nearly black with the filth that’s perpetually caked his body for ages. The clothes Ra’s set out for him are soft, plush to the touch. Shaking the top one out, Jason scrutinizes it –his heart breaks a little – it’s the ugliest burgundy sweater Alfred ever knitted for him, frayed at the ends and a little worse for wear, but it still fits.

He knows the game Tim, Ra’s, whatever is playing; it won’t faze him. The fraying threads are careworn, vulnerable. Soft. Just the way he wants Jason to be, caught unprepared without the security of Kevlar and weapons. He pulls it over his head, breathes in the faint scent of jasmine soap and cardamom.

No trace of Wayne Manor, crumbled to ashes a decade ago, ground to dust, no trace of the fabric softener Alfie favored. He tugs it down, pulls on the nondescript trousers provided for him and inhales deeply, hand resting on the doorknob for an instant.

The henchman never sees his fist coming.

~*~*~*~*~

“So you tried to drown him in this?” Ra’s looks disapprovingly at the filthy bathwater which had long since grown cold. One man is unconscious on the floor where Jason slammed his skull into the rim of the tub – he’d be feeling the resulting concussion later.

“Looks like your lackeys are, uh, a little lacking,” drawls Jason, completely ignoring the gun pressed against his temple.

Tim would have laughed. Snorted, at the very least, hiding the evidence of his amusement behind his hand. Instead, Ra’s only quirks an eyebrow. “They would deserve it for being so inobservant.”

“So I’m guessing talented new recruits for your little ninja cult acolytes are somewhat hard to come by,” hazards Jason, but Tim’s face (never Ra’s’) divulges nothing.

“Charming. Now, will you behave, or will I be forced to shave you myself? Your beard is atrocious.”

Jason smirks. “Tim was never able to get more beyond a little scruff, that why you’re not rocking a goatee? Or is it ‘cause you like him clean shaven?”

Ra’s doesn’t deign to provide him with an answer, simply sighing in vexation and producing a razor from…somewhere as the new henchmen holding him down wrestle him into a chair that was brought in earlier on Ra’s’ irritated command along with a basin and washcloth.

“Be real, you were planning on doing this yourself, weren’t you?” goads Jason. “No mirror, no shaving cream, _z_ ilch.”

“I _had_ hoped you would be more receptive, but I did anticipate this occurring, yes,” admits Ra’s, a sliver of annoyance finally gracing Tim’s features. “And obviously I wasn’t going to give you a mirror when you are resourceful enough to improvise a weapon from it, much less a razor. Now, hold still.” He grips Jason’s chin firmly.

Jason’s first instinct is to growl, tear himself away from Ra’s grasp, but his body inexplicably _stills_ of its own volition the second it registers that _Tim’s_ hands are touching him after over a decade. He thinks maybe he’s drowning as he locks eyes with familiar blue ones, that maybe it’s all a nightmare or a dream or even just a fantasy as he dares not to breathe, the razor carefully gliding over his foam-covered chin.

“ _You’re such a man-child,” Tim chided, gingerly scraping through Jason’s prickly stubble as Jason tried not to yawn, eyes still bleary even after a rare seven hours of sleep._

_“Actually, I’m a barbarian, as you so eloquently put it when you first caught me shaving with my knife and then proceeded to rat me out to the rest of the family. I’d never seen Alfie look at me like that before.”_

_“You’re a barbaric man-child. Remind me why I’m letting you twist me around your finger?”_

_“Golly gee, Timmy, s’not my fault my old man was in jail by the time I was finally growing hair like a gorilla. I had to improvise, which is where you decided to take pity on me.”_

_“You do behave like a gorilla, actually. Like King Kong.” Tim declared decisively. “Scaling skyscrapers and forcing people to call in military helicopters on your ass and all that.”_

_“If I’m King Kong, does that mean you’re my Ann?”_

_“I’m not going to bother gracing that with a response. Now be quiet before I accidentally slice you.”_

“There now. You look far more presentable.” Scrutinizing him, Ra’s appears to find his handiwork adequate as he waves a hand; the tools are taken away. Jason roughly wrenches his hands away from the pitiful excuses for ninjas, standing up and glaring warningly at Ra’s. However, the man only turns around and begins walking as if he expects Jason to follow him like a well-trained dog. Jason loudly scoffs at his retreating back pointedly, waiting a few beats longer than necessary to dictate that he’s following after Ra’s _only_ of his own volition and nothing else.

The lingering sensation of Tim’s fingertips trailing against his freshly shaven skin sends goosebumps radiating down Jason’s spine.

~*~*~*~*~

“Eat.” Ra’s lounges back in the intricate high-backed chair, scrutinizing him carefully. The aromas wafting in the dining room are _delectable_ , a web of spices that Jason can’t untangle.

“There’s an awful lot of meat on this table,” notes Jason spitefully even as he helps himself without a thought. If Ra’s wanted him dead or drugged, he’d have done it while he was still clapped in irons. “Goodness gracious, I bet it has nothing to do with all those blood samples you were taking.” His teeth tear into the meat viciously.

His eyes widen as he nearly drops his fork, the juices flowing into his mouth. Tender and moist – _god_ , the last meal he’d had like this was before everything had gone to hell. He manages not to _quite_ moan in front of Ra’s – the man is already smirking at his stunned expression, cutting politely into his own meal – but it’s a near thing. Jason savors the smoky flavor of the meat, sighing as he eventually swallows. He hadn’t realized he closed his eyes, but he nearly chokes when he reopens them.

Tim’s face has undeniably aged, but the faintly creased laughter lines of his mouth from the content smile gracing it – the expression makes Jason’s breath catch, heartbeat stuttering with a skip in its rhythm.

“You seemed like you enjoyed that,” Ra’s points out wryly, and Jason recovers himself enough to flash a cocky grin at the interloper in Tim’s body.

“I guess minions of evil overlords at least know how to cook a proper steak. My compliments to the chef.”

“I’ll be sure to send your regards. Although, with the current times, I wonder if ‘evil overlord’ is truly the right choice of word.”

“When is evil overlord _not_ the right choice of word for you?” retorts Jason, digging into his food with more gusto. If Ra’s is going to feed him like a prince, Jason is definitely not going to turn down what could be his last meal.

“Try when _I_ am the one rebuilding humanity,” replies Ra’s, drumming his fingers on the table.

Jason snorts. “I don’t exactly see much of your _League_ hanging around.”

“True,” admits Ra’s. “Numbers were…significantly depleted in the aftermath of the alien invasion. But that does not matter. After all,” he smirks at Jason, “you _have_ seen the fruits of my labor after a decade, no matter how small a success it is.”

_“State your name and purpose,” the guards snarled, pointing their weapons at him. Jason struggled to respond; his mouth wouldn’t form words. How useless language was if it were to rot away in the dust without another on this godforsaken planet to communicate with._

_“Jason,” he croaked. A dead man walking. A name that could have been anyone. Formless, shapeless, but with substance that would satisfy their question. “I…I saw lights. In the distance. They led me here. What is this place?” He gestures wildly beyond them; within the high walls of the city, a gleaming structure rises from the center of the city, the pinnacle of a satellite dish scraping the ashen sky._

_“It is our city.” Their guns didn’t lower. “And thieves like you aren’t welcome here.”_

_“I’m not a thief,” Jason automatically denied. Lie._

_“Do you have a permit? A form of identification?”_

_Jason wanted to howl with laughter. ID. Permits. The basic structures of a modern, working society. A novel idea, after so long._

_“I don’t.”_

_“Hm.” The guards eyed him suspiciously. The younger one turned to the second._

_“We could always use more recruits,” he said hesitantly, warily._

_“You can’t trust the vagrants running around willy-nilly,” muttered the other._

_“If you need soldiers, I can fight.”_

_“The people who couldn’t died a long time ago,” sneered the veteran of the two. “Any_ other _useful skills?”_

_“Why don’t you take me to your leader and I show him instead?” argued Jason._

_The older soldier guffawed, but the younger man had a more thoughtful look in his eye._

_“I don’t know. Would save us the time of having to decide whether he’s trustworthy or not. Besides, he_ did _say to notify him every time we let someone new into the city.”_

 _Jason snorted internally. Anal retentive_ and _paranoid. God, didn’t_ that _remind him of multiple people?_

_The other one huffed. “Fine, but you’ll be on cleaning duty if we get yelled at for wasting his time, you got that?” he jerked a thumb at Jason. “Follow me.”_

_He trailed after him, the younger one watching him carefully and bringing up the rear. His eyes widened._

_The courtyard was paved, market stalls bustling and thriving as families bustled about, the plaza lively and filled with the buzz of conversations and bartering. Metal tools, animal furs, and all sorts of fabrics and pottery lined the stalls along with other merchandise. A child sat playing on the steps, cradling a doll with glass eyes and braided yarn for hair._

_How had civilization rebuilt so quickly? Were there other cities, all out of reach because of his aimless wandering? Hell, even compasses had been rendered useless because simply put there were no destinations worthwhile to travel to. At least until now._

_“So, uh, what’s your leader like?” he queried, the man leading him through the fringes of the plaza and then up a row of stairs._

_“You’ll see for yourself,” grunted the man. More guards were stationed at the door; a quick salute, and they part, giving Jason’s disheveled appearance wary glances._

_“Hey, man, you sure he’s safe?” asked one suspiciously._

_“It’s fine, you really think our leader can’t handle the likes of him if he proves us wrong?” snorted the older guard escorting Jason. The door swung open, and Jason stepped inside._

_“Sir,” announced Jason’s escort, “this man showed up at the gates. We wanted to ensure that –”_

_“Tim,” croaked Jason in disbelief. “_ Tim _.”_

_The soldier swiveled around to glare at him. “What on earth are you yammering about? You crazy or –”_

_“At ease, soldier.” Jason thought the soldier’s jaw must have dropped in shock, but all he could do was stare._

_“You’re alive,” whispered Jason. “Bloody hell. You’re alive.”_

_“Do you know him?” asked the bemused guard. “He’s – he’s off his rocker, he’s –”_

_“I said at_ ease _. And yes, I believe I most certainly do.” Jason wasn’t even paying attention anymore, stumbling forward and pushing the inconsequential guard aside. Before he even knew that he’d crossed the room, he was grasping Tim by the shoulders, an equally stunned and bewildered expression painting his face, but it was him, it was –_

_“Tim, god, I missed you,” breathed Jason, hugging him tightly, uncaring of the spectacle he was making in front of the soldiers, in front of all the negligible people in the room. “How did you survive? I – I really thought you were dead, I –”_

_Instead, Tim gently pried himself from Jason’s grasping arms, a tender smile on his face. “I didn’t know you were alive either, Jason. What incredible fortune.”_

_“What are you talking about,” laughed Jason breathlessly, pure joy in his gaze. “It’s a miracle; after Tamaran I went back to search for you, I looked everywhere, gods, I could kis–”_

_“I think,” Tim said slowly, a thoughtful expression gracing his features, “that we have a lot to catch up on. Why don’t you join me downstairs, Jason? We’re causing a scene.” He chuckled, waving a hand at the dumbstruck onlookers, who immediately turned and busied themselves with staring anywhere but their general direction. “You must be starving. You there.” He snapped his fingers in front of a passing servant. “Notify the guards that I want the basement room prepared. We’ll be receiving a…guest.”_

“Well sure, it is pretty huge progress,” admits Jason grudgingly. “But you’re just allowing people who are useful and shit like that.”

“And is that so wrong, Jason?” Ra’s leans forward intently. “In this world, people who serve no purpose or offer no additional value to society simply exist outside of it. The wanderers beyond these walls are unable to cooperate or trust each other long enough to truly rebuild for the sake of safety. Certainly there are packs. Gangs. Nomadic groups. But none can offer the safety or the promise of peace that I can. All anyone has to simply do is be _useful_.”

That’s the thing. Jason _can’t_ refute it. The glimpse that he saw showed that life, while slow to change, was no longer a struggle for survival. Orderly, structured, blissfully ignorant civilization.

“Tim wouldn’t have said that,” Jason says in lieu of anything actually useful, sipping the glass of wine that Ra’s had offered him.

“Indeed,” smiles Ra’s. “But as you have yet to learn, I am _not_ him.” He raises his own glass. “To departed friends.”

“To departed friends,” Jason responds mechanically, tipping his glass once more. Setting it down, he eyes Ra’s once more. “So since I’m not dead or kicked out, I’m guessing you’ve found a use for me.”

“Naturally.” Ra’s smiles, eyes like flint in their calmness.

“I don’t suppose I’d be privy to the reason why?” drawls Jason, kicking his chair back to teeter on its back legs rudely.

“It took a while for results to come out, given the limits of our current technology, hence the reason why you were confined for so long,” explains Ra’s. “However, I found what I was looking for. Traces of Lazarus.”

Jason stiffens. He’d suspected, but until now he had had no proof, no evidence for whatever Ra’s had been searching for. “You already have the Pit, Ra’s,” he grits out. “What the hell do you need me for?”

Ra’s tilts his head to study him. A quirk so natural it makes Jason pause, struck by how unnervingly familiar that habitual movement had been.

“Perhaps showing you will be the quickest way to your understanding.”

~*~*~*~*~

The corridor grows unerringly steeper, stairs fading to an even dirt pathway which then gives way to a well-walked road, stalactites and stalagmites growing longer and jagged the further they go. The last sentries they passed were hundreds of meters back behind them; now only ninjas remain, no doubt Ra’s’ most loyal.

He spies it as the corridor ends, opening up into the largest room of the cavern that rests below them, connected to the corridor by a series of manmade stairs leading up to it; he stops in his tracks.

“The earth is rotting, Jason.” Ra’s stands at the mouth of the drop, face grim. “In spite of my best efforts, it is decaying. Even now, those in the city struggle to water what crops they can grow in the cracked earth. And it shows here as well.”

“It’s dying,” manages Jason, looking down at the unnatural waters of the Lazarus pit beneath them – yet it was no longer the maddening emerald green that his nightmares once dredged up once upon a time before being replaced with fresher, newer hells. The only way Jason could describe its color was _sickly_ , remarkably paler in comparison to his memories. The waters no longer gurgled with magical energy rippling to its surface, and the Pit’s contents seemed almost _murky_ , the rock-crusted bottom of the spring impossible to see.

“Indeed.” Ra’s swivels to face him fully, his emerald cloak a full, darker hue than that of the Lazarus Pit. “This is where you come in.”

Jason scoffs, crossing his arms unconsciously as if it could serve as a barrier separating him from the man standing in front of him. “Just because my blood has a few traces of it isn’t going to do you any good, Ra’s. Besides, your body should have way more Lazarus magic content compared to…” he trails off, realizing his mistake.

“Unfortunately, as you might have just surmised, the Detective’s body does not even have a fraction of the magic running in your bloodstream, much less than the quantity I had accumulated in my original form” says Ra’s drily.

“So what are you proposing?” asks Jason somehow exhausted from the deluge of information though his nerves are all on edge, his instincts all screaming _danger_.

“I’ve been searching for a way to synthesize the magical properties of the Pit,” explains Ra’s. “Results have only been partially successful as of now, considering the severe lack of meta humans and magic users who were able to survive.”

“So what?” sneers Jason, crossing his limbs. “Suddenly you want me to be your Lazarus blood bag just to prolong your life?”

“While I can understand why you would certainly believe I am motivated purely from selfishness, I would advise you to look a little deeper.” Ra’s crosses his arms admonishingly. “Others who looked to settle rather than continue their hunter-gatherer lifestyles found they could not establish themselves simply due to the fact that nothing could grow.”

“You built the settlement here because there was a Pit here. This was the only place where crops could grow at all,” deduces Jason, and Ra’s nods at him simply.

“Naturally. Unless we restore the Pit’s powers, I suspect that the earth will continue to rot. And if a solution is not found, living anywhere will soon become unsustainable. Do you understand why I am showing this to you?” Ra’s gazes solemnly at Jason.

“There’s nothing stopping me from killing you right where you stand,” challenges Jason, avoiding the question. Just because he’s weaponless and lacks the protection of Kevlar doesn’t mean he’s not a _threat_.

“Oh, Jason.” Ra’s chuckles at him infuriatingly. “If you were going to put up more than a lukewarm token resistance, you would have done so before I permitted you to step foot in here. The factions of ‘superheroes’ and ‘villains’ no longer exist. Your cause, as I understood it, was cleaning up Gotham prior to the invasion and Earth’s fall. There’s certainly nothing stopping you from continuing that, of course, but I’m afraid you’ll only find some rubble and the occasional rabble of desperados that pass through Gotham’s remains. For all of your biases towards me, even _you_ cannot deny that I have helped to bring back humanity from the brink of destruction, even if by only a fraction.”

Jason schools his expression, refusing to betray any of his thoughts. “And if I say no to you?”

Ra’s smiles at him, sharp and Machiavellian. “I think you already know the answer to that question, dear Jason.” He turns. “I would imagine you would like to sleep on your decision. I’ll have the servants prepare more suitable living quarters. Oh, and Jason? I would prefer a willing participant, but I can certainly make do with resorting to other methods.”

“How kind,” mutters Jason. Chancing a final glance at the Pit, Jason can’t help a final shiver racing down his spine.

However weak and ill it may be, the green lingers, unnatural in its eerie luminescence.

~*~*~*~*~

_“The reports we have received are…not good.” Koriand’r gazed at him seriously, green eyes solemn and sad. “Would you not stay with us, Jason? My people have welcomed you, and we would be honored to have a warrior such as yourself join our midst.”_

_“No can do, Kori. I have to go back.” He tugged at the straps of his holsters, snug and secure about his thighs as he boarded the spacecraft, one foot already on the gangway. “You know I have to.”_

_“Air reports say that the atmosphere has stabilized enough for us beam you there, though even the best of our equipment are unable to view the terrain below. Most of the refugees we saved have decided to remain here on Tamaran, as many of them are families with women and children.”_

_He saw the gleaming, jaded hope in her eyes, the unspoken question she dared not voice. “I swore I’d go back. If there’s even the slightest chance that he’s out there…You’d have done it for Roy, I know you would.”_

_“The corrosive atmosphere will interfere with our signals.” Koriand’r said, pointedly ignoring him. We also won’t be able to land in case it damages our spacecraft. Once you are teleported back, we won’t be able to contact you.”_

_“Got it.”_

_Her eyes glimmered. “Jason, I cannot aid you if you insist on walking to your death on a fool’s errand.”_

_“I know. Thank you for everything you’ve done, Kori. I appreciate it, I really do.”_

He flutters awake to consciousness, closing his eyes with a weary sigh as he stares up at the stark ceiling, drab and lonely in the darkness. The faint scents of jasmine and sandalwood waft to him, the fragrant aroma of incense waning as the night lingers on. His curtains are drawn, the windows more than three inches thick, bullet proof and durable. The sheets are plush, the blankets warm. His stomach is full, his face clean-shaven. The soft scratch of Alfred’s sweater rubs against his skin.

Everything is wrong.

_“What’s the matter, Jay?” asked Tim, leaning into him. They were tangled together on the couch, Tim curled atop his chest with their legs stretched over the length of the sofa “You’re quieter than usual.” He twisted around and planted a quick, careful kiss that Jason melted into._

_“Nothing,” murmured Jason, wrapping his arms around him. Tim’s frame may have been leaner than his, but it belied the coiled strength Jason knew lurked just under the surface. “Just wondering how I got so lucky to have you.”_

_“Hmm, Jason Peter Todd being sentimental?” Tim laughed quietly into the crook of Jason’s neck. “Well, the reduction of your use of live ammunition certainly helped, amongst other things.”_

_“Mm.” Jason’s fingers tenderly grazed along a faint scar, ridged and colorless over Tim’s skin._

_“Don’t tell me you still feel guilty over that.” Tim huffed and closed his eyes contentedly. “I told you that was from when you smashed the glass of Titan Tower and a shard got stuck in my arm. Really, of all things to be sorry about, you pick the weirdest things. What brought this on?”_

_“It’s not about guilt.” Jason’s eyelashes lowered as he leaned down. He brushed his lips over the discolored patch of skin. “I don’t regret anything.”_

_“That’s a bold statement.” Tim caught his chin in the cusp of his fingers, forcing Jason to look him in the eye. “Really, nothing?”_

Only that I’m weak to your forgiveness, _Jason thought privately. “Nothing. ‘Cause you’re with me right now.” He grinned toothily, abruptly flipping Tim. Tim’s back hit the sofa with a soft whump, Jason crouched above him. He gazed up at Jason, his eyes surprised but affectionate. Strands of his hair spilled over the armrest and framed his cheeks like calligraphy ink. “Need me to prove it?” Jason hummed, breath puffing teasingly over Tim’s parted lips._

_“You’re still being sentimental; don’t think I won’t get to the bottom of this later,” huffed Tim in mock annoyance. Yet he tugged Jason down to indulge him, laughing breathlessly as Jason’s warmth engulfed him. They traded quiet kisses in the privacy of their apartment long into the night, the intimacy of their rendezvous unbroken and undisturbed until morning._

“Stop,” growls Jason into the night, as he presses the heel of his palms to his closed eyes in frustration. He hears the changing of the guard outside his door, muted footsteps against the linoleum. He tosses and turns for a little while longer, until he can no longer bear it. Sweeping the covers off his body in a fluid motion, Jason rolls out of bed with a tired heave of his chest. Opening the door, Jason confronts the wary and now-alert guards.

“Tell Ra’s I want to speak with him.”

~*~*~*~*~

Ra’s looks up as Jason is escorted in, leaning back in his seat. Jason is vaguely astonished to see a microscope and multiple test tubes neatly arranged along the lab desk that Ra’s is working at. It is difficult to imagine Ra’s performing laboratory tests, tasks that Jason would have expected him to delegate to others. Yet with Tim’s body seated in the pristine lab, the physical sight is easier to comprehend. Ra’s isn’t wearing his usual emerald cape, presumably too unsuited for scientific research purposes. As he takes off the goggles to greet him, Jason is once again reminded how odd it is that Ra’s al Ghul is actually _shorter_ than him now.

How strange that a single person’s presence could dwarf an entire room by sheer reputation alone.

“Jason,” Ra’s says, standing up smoothly. “I would have expected you to be asleep by now. Are the accommodations not to your liking?”

“They’re fine. I see you’re following proper lab safety. Nice.”

Ra’s crooks an eyebrow. “Indeed. Is there something you require?”

“What’re you researching?” He indicates the lab equipment with a nod of his head.

“Your blood samples, naturally. I am cross-referencing them with the Lazarus Pit waters.”

“Trying to restore the magic component to the Pit?”

“That was the original idea,” admits Ra’s. “Failing that, determining the chemical composition of the Lazarus Pit will be crucial.”

“You want to make your own Lazarus Pits.”

His smile is barbed and sharp like flint. “It’s been done before, as you may know.”

“Kobra,” fills in Jason. “But he revised it so that he could control the minds of those who entered the pits.”

“Yes. That’s not a goal of mine; you have nothing to fear from me on that account. Time is of the essence and restoring the Pits before their magic completely vanishes is critical. Kobra did not write the chemical composition down, I’m afraid, preferring to keep the formula within the vault of his mind, so the secret has been lost with him. But duplicating his work is not impossible, albeit difficult. It took Kobra years.”

“You probably should have gotten on having a failsafe for this sort of scenario, you know. Being eternal and all that.”

“My dear Jason.” Ra’s’ smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “When you have a complete monopoly over the use of a coveted and rare asset that is presumably everlasting and sustainable, replicating it would only serve to devalue it.”

“Still.” Jason gazes at the fragile vials of blood and bubbling green liquid as a pretext for subtly observing Ra’s out of the corner of his eye. Tim’s fingers are longer now, his skin still about as pale as Jason remembered, no doubt from the lack of sunlight that could penetrate the atmosphere. He can’t fathom Ra’s ever showing signs of weariness, of tiring after a long day, and yet the evidence is in front of him.

Tim used to push himself on for hours on end, his determination to see a case through coming at the cost of his health and his well-being. Dark bags would line the underside of his eyes as he’d stretch at the front of his computer, joints popping audibly as he rotated his neck and shoulders to ease the residual stiffness from his body.

“When was the last time you ate?” The words fall naturally, unbidden from his lips. His eyes widen, his back stiffens. A mistake.

“Excuse me?” Ra’s glances at him oddly.

“Nothing.” Jason scowls, turns away. Obviously it’d been at the small banquet earlier. He curses himself for his slip. However, Ra’s is far too invested on his research to comment as he returns to scrutinizing the slides on the microscope. Jason takes the opportunity to fully watch him, no longer trying to hide his searching gaze.

His eyes sweep down the curve of Tim’s back, notes the way Ra’s scrawls a bright red line across a vial and replaces it, the way Tim’s handwriting has changed from its messy, spidery scrawl to elegant, flowing script. There’s still tiny notes in the margins, placeholders to come back to, faint but easily legible. Jason’s gaze travels up to where Tim’s hair falls gently against his nape. He wonders if it’s his imagination or if Tim’s hair has thinned out ever so slightly, though for the most part it has retained the same texture and color as he recalls it. Ra’s huffs as he crosses something out, underscores another paragraph, rolls up his sleeves as he pours a solution into a beaker.

“Your – your scar is gone.”

“Hm?” Ra’s turns to face him properly.

“Tim. He had a scar there, just beneath the elbow. Small and easy to miss. From a shard of glass,” explains Jason mechanically. He traces the shape of it over his own skin from memory, short and jagged but no longer than a centimeter wide.

He doesn’t know how to feel that the physical evidence of his and Tim’s beginning – however violent and cruel and premeditated it had been on Jason’s part – has been erased, and not of Tim’s personal volition. He’d never regretted what he had become – but the innocents who had been hurt in the crossfire of his pursuit to take up arms against the Bat and to mete out his own brand of justice – he had sworn to answer for those consequences for as long as he lived.

“I see,” says Ra’s dismissively, like he’s maybe cataloguing that fact to consider later. “Effects from the Lazarus Pit, no doubt.”

“I would have thought you would have refrained from using the Pit considering how weak its magic is.” Jason’s tone is hard and accusing.

Ra’s frowns at him, his work forgotten on his desk as he rises, chair scraping back. “The Pit’s madness remains strong. I would not immerse myself within its chemical baths without good cause. While its powers have weakened, I do not take it lightly.” He gestures outward and advances on Jason, the truth depth of his annoyance reflected in ice-cold eyes. “You think I could have accomplished this much without a great deal of sacrifice, Jason? I have launched a satellite. The city has clean, drinkable water for all its inhabitants, by far one of my most difficult tasks to this date. We have electricity, though as of now most of the energy we generate is devoted towards keeping the satellite running. We’re working on expanding the entire power grid so that all inhabitants can eventually enjoy the use of electricity.

“And what have _you_ accomplished, Jason? While you have roamed this godforsaken wasteland like a specter, _I_ at least have something to show for my efforts over the course of this decade. Yes, I was forced to utilize the pits more than I would have liked due to injuries I sustained in the Detective’s body, particularly during the wall’s construction when the city was vulnerable to bandits and the like. But everything I have done, was for the sake of the world I am trying to save.” He abruptly grips Jason’s collar, tugs him down until Jason is forced down to meet his gaze. Ra’s’ stark, calculated fury clashes with Jason’s undisciplined rage.

 “You’ve twisted him,” says Jason bitterly. “But I know he’s in there, somewhere.”

“If it eases your mind, I will not stop you from believing otherwise,” sneers Ra’s. “But do not cross me, young Jason. I am not your lover, though I have taken his form, nor will I ever be. Don’t forget that.” He releases him and steps back.

Jason’s chest heaves with every breath he takes. He wants nothing more than to lash out. To destroy something. Yet Ra’s – for all that Jason loathes him with every fiber of his being, for every lie and false promise he has spoken – he has been _honest_.

And that truly scares Jason.

“I expected more from the Detective’s son,” says Ra’s, laced with derision, venomous and barbed. “But perhaps like him, you too are blinded by your scrupulous little morals to see the potential _good_ I could restore to this world.”

“I can’t trust a man who would steal another person’s body and free will for the sake of his own longevity,” spits Jason.

“He offered himself to me.”

The world spins. Time stops. His sight blurs, unfocused and hazy. Jason can’t breathe, the words a physical blow that shakes him to the core.

“You’re lying,” he says brokenly, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had come. “ _You’re_ _lying_!”

Tim – Ra’s – watches him calmly, unfazed. “I have no proof, nor do I need any – because it is what it is.”

His knees shake, but they don’t buckle. Jason staggers back, hits the wall with a solid thump. His eyes clench shut tightly. Ra’s remains silent. Out of calculated pity, out of amusement, respect, indifference, Jason doesn’t know.

“ _Why_ ,” he grits out at last. “He wouldn’t have. He hated you.”

“He loved you more than he despised me.” Ra’s walks forward, stoops down in front of where Jason is slumped against the wall, bending down on one knee. He cups his chin. Jason glares, overcome, exhausted, but never one to meekly take his eyes off an enemy. “The wounds he sustained in his final battle would have been fatal had I not arrived in time.”

“You made a deal with him,” Jason says mechanically, eyes listless.

“He made me an offer he knew I would not refuse. I was surprised as well, to say the least. But as always, the Detective was thorough in his stratagems. He knew what I desired, and he knew the cost of his agreement.”

“What did he say?” Jason asks, afraid to know the answer.

“ _He’s an idiot. A dog with a bone. He’ll tear the world apart if it means he has a chance of getting me back. And even you can’t stop him, Ra’s. That’s why I’m going to live no matter what._ Verbatim. _”_ Ra’s cocks an eyebrow at him.  “Though, looking at you now, I would have to say his assessment was sorely inaccurate.”

“Christ.” Jason laughs, hoarse and broken and raw. He swats away Ra’s hand. “You’re really a fucking sick person, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.” Ra’s stands up, dusting imaginary flecks of dirt from his trousers. Jason lets his face drop, bangs falling into his eyes as he pulls the jagged pieces of himself back together.

“I’m not doing it for you,” he says at last.

“Of course not.”

“You’re unforgivable.”

“That tends to be the case when one has lived for over three centuries.”

“If you don’t accomplish the goals you say you’re trying to reach, I’ll strangle you myself, Ra’s. But we have a deal. It’s not about you, or even your idea of a greater good, or saving the earth. I’m doing it for him. Because he would have done it.”

“Then I look forward to working with you, Jason Todd.”

~*~*~*~*~

The tube quickly fills with blood until Ra’s determines he’s collected enough. The needle pulls from Jason’s skin, gauze efficiently pressed to the puncture as the samples are bottled and stored.

“I would advise you not to perform activities that may cause you undue strain.” Ra’s peels the latex gloves from his hands.

“Yeah, yeah. Got any bandages?” Jason extends his palm, but Ra’s simply clicks his tongue. Retrieving the medical tape instead, he tears off a piece and neatly taps the gauze down over Jason’s skin, Tim’s fingers clinically brushing over Jason’s inner wrist.

“Bandages are, I’m afraid, still considered a limited resource. You’ll simply have to make do.”

“Right.”

“Dinner will be served at seven.”

“Kay.”

Ra’s cocks an eyebrow at him. “You are uncharacteristically quiet today.”

Jason scoffs. “Caring about your live-in blood bag today, are you?”

“I was merely making a statement based upon observation. Shall I have the servants bring you water and food?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Ra’s holds him under scrutiny for a painful moment, clear blue eyes never missing a single detail. “Very well. But see to it that you keep up your diet.”

Jason exhales noisily, slumping and pressing his cheek to the cool surface of the desk. Ra’s spares him an odd look, but otherwise doesn’t comment as he busies himself with marking and dating the new blood samples.

“So what exactly have you found so far?” asks Jason, cracking open his eyes to regard Ra’s. “You’d better have some answers considering how much damn blood I’ve given you over the past few weeks.”

“Nothing concrete, I’m afraid. There are some tests I would like to run, but unfortunately we don’t have a cell separator which would certainly speed up the work.” Ra’s clicks his tongue. “Nevertheless, we _have_ managed to acquire a centrifuge, which will simply have to do.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Keeping up your health would be beneficial.”

Jason snorts, but drags himself up from his slumped position. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I’m painfully aware.”

“For an old man, you’ve gotten a hell lot sassier than I remember.” Jason glares at him, but a tiny, hateful part of him still clings to the remains of his shredded hope. Ra’s doesn’t even spare him an annoyed glance, concentrating on his work pointedly. At his silence, Jason huffs, gazing up at the ceiling.

“I think I deserve to know what the hell you’re doing with my blood.”

“I doubt you would be able to comprehend –”

“I wasn’t born in a barn, asshole; just ‘cause I grew up in the Narrows doesn’t mean I’m _dumb_.”

Ra’s glares at him, but Jason stands firm. “I’m going to keep harassing you until you tell me, you know.” He stretches his arms over the desk, purposefully obscuring Ra’s notes with his long limbs.

Clicking his tongue, Ra’s finally accedes. “Very well.” He steeples his fingers, elbows resting atop the table. “I presume you’re aware of blood spinning?”

“Sure. We used the technique sometimes back in the bat cave, though not very often. You separate the components of your blood, then combine the plasma and platelets to inject it back into your injury to speed up healing.”

“Correct. Doing this concentrates the growth factors within the platelets which is why it boosts recovery time. As it turns out, your blood does have an unusually high amount of growth factor, even without it concentrated after blood spinning.”

“So you think that might have to do with the Lazarus’ effects on my system. The platelets. That’s why you need the centrifuge. You think you can isolate the residual Lazarus magic better when the blood components are separated.”

“Indeed.”

Jason considers that. “Don’t you think you’re going about it the wrong way?”

Ra’s’ eyebrows raise in skeptical surprise. “Explain.”

“Platelets have a lot of growth factors, sure – but there’s got to be a reason why Lazarus magic’s still circulating in my body. Platelets, at least the red ones, have a really short lifespan – about eight days, I reckon. How many times have you soaked in the pit since you –” he can’t bring himself to articulate it. Fortunately, Ra’s answers before he can struggle to verbally confront the ugly truth.

“Twice.”

“And yet I still have more Lazarus content.”

“Most likely because in your case it was forced to fully resurrect you as compared to only healing life-threatening wounds. In both cases I did not submerge myself for longer than necessary.”

“Right. So – if that means my body is running on Lazarus magic –” Jason swallows down the mild wave of nausea now that he’s once again forced to consider the events of his resurrection and all its implications. “Then presuming it’s as long lasting as you say –”

“–it resides in the stem cells,” finishes Ra’s, eyes gleaming. Jason can see the proverbial gears churning in his head. “Fascinating. We would need to perform a bone marrow extraction.”

“Is that even possible? I mean sure, you have a kind of lab, but do you even have the equipment?”

“It can be arranged, eventually, given time.” Ra’s folds his arms. “But now, I wonder if it would be possible to harvest –”

“Ok, _whoa_ there.” Jason holds his palms up to stop Ra’s. “You are not fucking harvesting me, Ra’s. If I agree to give up my bone marrow – and if you think you don’t need my say in the matter you can kiss my ass goodbye right now – you’re going to explain to me every damn step of the process, especially if you’re not going to undergo the same procedures.”

“I think you forget that the Detective’s body –”

“Shut up, Ra’s.” Jason takes one massive step forward and wrenches Ra’s’ shirt up, ignoring the way the man’s eyes widen. A brief scan of Tim’s abdomen tells him all he needs to know.

“Looks like that scar’s gone too. From when he lost his spleen, in case you didn’t know that. Does that mean you might have actually grown back an organ?”

“I must confess to say that it wasn’t among my top priorities to check,” says Ra’s huffily, stepping backwards with as much grace as he can muster once Jason releases the hem of his shirt. “And as a matter of fact, I _was_ aware of that; I ordered the operation to take place as he had been wounded by a member of the Council of Spiders.”

“You’re getting sloppy, Ra’s.” Jason folds his arms against his chest. “What’s changed? You used to be a hell lot more thorough than this.”

“Scarce resources force me to allocate them where I think they are best suited, Jason,” snaps Ra’s, an annoyed edge entering his voice. “Now, are we done with your little interrogation?”

Jason focuses his narrowed eyes on Ra’s, suspicion and wariness easily visible in his stance. “For now,” he says abruptly. He turns. “I’m going to get some food.”

The door swings shut behind him with a forceful clang as Jason stalks up the stairways leading to the outside. He blinks briefly, eyes adjusting to the meager sunlight there is, though he doesn’t stop as he makes his way towards the walls, bypassing the market stalls and the construction underway for more permanent housing.

Since he had agreed to help Ra’s’ research, for the most part he’s been afforded fairly lavish treatment. Ra’s makes sure his diet is plentiful to recover the blood he’s been providing, and he’s allowed to go where he pleases so long as he doesn’t stray beyond the city walls. Ra’s had initially tried to have a bodyguard monitor his activities until Jason had sneered and given a demonstration that he did _not_ need a babysitter, much less an incompetent one.

“You’re a real piece of work, Ra’s al Ghul,” mutters Jason grimly to himself, his feet taking him towards the walls. He can hear voices, not the usual market babble and muted conversations, but arguing, infuriated ones. He jogs up to the steps where he sees two other patrolling guards, probably reinforcements. There’s also a cluster of townspeople below, and he hears little bits and pieces of information as he shoulders his way through the crowd.

“C’mon, it’s not fair that –”

“You can’t keep us from –”

“ –takes the edge off, it’s harmless –”

“Just a bit of fun –”

“What’s going on?” he calls, and the guards glance at him suspiciously even as more soldiers run in to push the crowd back away from the walls.

“You’re just our leader’s pet dog; it’s none of your business,” snaps the younger one suspiciously.

Jason smiles, showing a hint of teeth. He’s gratified when the man flinches backwards. “But even a pet dog is less expendable than the two of you,” he replies, keeping his smile wide and sharp. “Spill.”

“You better know how to pick your battles, kid,” snorts the second, and Jason realizes with a smirk it’s his former bodyguard, still sporting the black eye Jason dealt him. Still, the guard glares at Jason suspiciously, body tensed up for a fight. “Does he know you’re here?”

“He doesn’t care as long as I don’t stray too far,” smirks Jason. “Anyway, it sounds like you could use some help, and I’m bored. Or hell, you guys could at least tell me what’s going on.” He gestures upwards along the parapets where the voices are escalating, infuriated and angry.

“Fine,” the guard mutters. “Come on, then.” They jog the rest of the way to the top of the walls, reaching the section where there’s a crowd growing, the shouting match progressively getting louder. Jason easily towers above a good portion of Ra’s’ men, and he peers over the top of their heads to assess the situation.

There’s a scattered group below at ground level, most on motorbikes that are outfitted with banners on the back of them that bear two or three different symbols that Jason doesn’t recognize. It’s a ragtag motley of the so-called vagrants, but Jason can see that they’ve managed to unify on some front.

“Get the hell out!” yells one of the guards, weapons locked and loaded. “None of you are welcome here!”

“That yellow banner, with the coiled scorpion?” murmurs the first guard grimly to Jason. “Them’s the Rock Crypts. The green with the black snake’s for the Asps. I’d heard rumors that they’d formed an alliance, but I thought it would’ve fallen apart by now.”

 “And the red skull?” Jason’s mouth tightens.

“The Skulls.”

“Of course,” mutters Jason, grimacing. “Damn, they’re just as bad at names as the caped community was.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“These gangs are comprised of people whom the Demon’s Head deemed socially unfit. They were cast out of the city, and they grew in numbers. They’re bitter.”

“No shit,” grumbles Jason. “But I’m surprised that Ra’s didn’t just kill them off immediately.”

“Some were. But most were banished, at least those who could not prove their worth but did not commit any crimes, or acknowledge him as their leader.” The guard pushes past Jason to take his place at the fortifications, forcing Jason to chase after his retreating back.

“Wait! So what are they after now?”

“They’re simply showing their true parasitic selves,” sneers the guard. “They don’t wish for anyone to be successful over them; they despise that we have come so far. They want to enjoy the benefits from our labor without sparing a single contribution; we don’t need people like them.”

“No?” Jason rears back a little when suddenly below them a horn sounds. As one, the thugs raise their weapons, and fire with a resounding boom.

“Get down!” he yells but no one else moves, guns still trained on the motorcyclists.

“Don’t bother,” says the man grimly when Jason looks up in confusion. “It’s not bullets they’re firing.”

“I – what –” something small and hard hits Jason’s head and bounces off; he catches it in his palm.

“Candy –?”

“Drugs,” spits the guard with loathing. “Look below.” He gestures behind them; the townspeople are cheering from the ground, jumping, reaching towards the sky desperately, pushing each other as the drugs fall to the ground like a rain of hard sweets.

“Fire!” yells someone on the parapets, and the wall defenders return real gunfire, a volley of shrapnel and bullets. The motorcyclists are already retreating; most shots go wide, pinging off metal and helmets.

“I don’t understand,” says Jason helplessly. “What’s their purpose? What are the effects of these drugs?”

“Gives you a brief high. They were distributed at some point through the city before we were able to root the drug ring out; we were too late and they got enough people hooked on it. “But what makes it so valuable is that it makes people recall the good times; hallucinate for enough time, and soon you think it becomes real. You won’t be able to distinguish fiction from reality. You can’t get it in the city; the Demon’s Head banned it because it lowered productivity. The addicts got cast out too.”

“They’re distributing it freely. The drifters aren’t profiting in any way,” points out Jason. “They just –” he bites off his realization.

“If they can’t be a part of society, they’ll destroy it. That’s the kind of jackals they are,” hisses the guard. “If they can’t be happy, no one can. So they cause disorder in any way they can. Imagine if they were in the city; this was the kind of mayhem the Demon’s Head wanted to eliminate.”

Jason looks down at the foil-wrapped pill in his hand, emblazoned with the crests of the unified gangs, looks down at the townsfolk desperately fighting for the drugs, the guards desperately trying to disperse them.

“If you ask me, they’ve brought the mayhem to him.”

~*~*~*~*~

“I think you’re seriously underestimating the drifters,” says Jason grimly. “They’ve unified.”

“So I’ve been made aware of.”

“Look.” Jason tosses down the tiny pill in front of Ra’s. “See that? Manufactured, all uniformly wrapped. They’ve got a base of operations somewhere. Somewhere where they can mass produce this crap.”

“And?”

“I’m saying that if you’re not careful, your little utopia is going to come crashing down on your head, Ra’s,” growls Jason. “We are – for all intents and purposes – in this together, at least for the time being. Have you learned literally nothing in all the centuries you’ve sat twiddling your thumbs? You can’t get rid of crime, but you can control it.”

“The way you became an unsuccessful drug lord yourself?” Tim’s head cocks towards him sarcastically, his head tilt a quirk evidently retained long after Tim’s Red Robin days.

“At least I acknowledged the cracks in society,” snaps Jason, pacing the room like a caged animal. “The people you’re governing are obviously not content, Ra’s, at least not under the surface of your little ‘everything is jolly fucking happy’ dictatorship. And you need to either _fix_ whatever they’re not happy with, or find a better way to make sure the crazy bike gangs you’ve somehow managed to indirectly create stop pulling this kinda crap.”

“Hm.” Ra’s grunts noncommittally in his direction. “You’re right, more restrictions need to be enforced, with more severe penalties for anyone found with the drugs on them.”

“That is _not_ what I said. I know you’re a big fan of tyranny, Ra’s, but the populace you’re governing over obviously do not respect you like whatever eternal deity your former League saw you as!”

“They see me as a hero,” snaps Ra’s, “as they rightfully should.”

“Not if you keep going on like this! You need to, I don’t know, make more public appearances? Do whatever the hell you were doing back at the League to boost morale! You’ve been holed up in here for months!” Jason’s eyes snap open with a revelation that takes his breath away.

_“Tim,” growled Jason, pacing forward, putting just enough of the Bat into his voice that Tim startled then glared at him. “What, did I ruffle your feathers?” he smirked, voice slipping back into its normal register._

_“Jason, why are you in Madrid?” Tim’s eyes appeared dilated, almost like he was running on pure determination and caffeine; Jason didn’t want to think about when he had last rested._

_“Do you know when the last time you contacted the Cave?” Jason snorted, clapping a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Three months.”_

_“I’m busy, Jason, I’m right about to close this case,” snapped Tim irritably, smacking his hand off like it was diseased. “Look, tonight is my only shot at getting this kingpin into custody; he’s flying to Ljubljana in six hours. I don’t have time.”_

_Jason groaned, smacking his forehead with his palm. “Look, I know how it is with us bats and birds getting too focused on one thing, but literally, I just need to know if –”_

_“If you’re not gonna be useful, then –”_

_“I came here to help, you ass,” growled Jason. “You said six hours, right? Brief me; we’ve got more than enough time. And then after we wrap it up, you’re gonna go fucking apologize to Alfie because you missed his birthday, you hear me?”_

_Tim’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no,” he whispered, eyes growing round like saucers. “It’s already that time of the year?”_

_“No shit, baby bird. We really need to work on your whole gig of ignoring people when you’re fixated on something; I even sent you a fucking text message to remind you of the big day.”_

“You are staring again.” Ra’s snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting Jason from his thoughts.

“No, it’s nothing,” recovers Jason a little unsteadily. He watches Tim’s vaguely bemused countenance instantly become replaced by Ra’s’ usual poker face as the man returns to his experiments.

He doesn’t know what he believes to be true anymore.

~*~*~*~*~

The days pass by endlessly; Jason finds ways to keep himself occupied by learning about the citizens. Ra’s acquires the tools needed to perform a bone marrow extraction, while Jason takes long walks about the city, the satellite dish gleaming against the horizon.

“The procedure is admittedly cruder than I would like it to be, but it shall suffice. It won’t be life threatening,” says Ra’s calmly. Still, Jason frowns as Ra’s approaches him with a hypodermic needle in hand.

“I feel like you’ve been using me as a pin cushion a lot,” mutters Jason petulantly even as he hops into the cot. “Also, before you knock me out, you should probably know that there’s been some dissent.”

“My men are dealing with it even as we speak.”

“You don’t get it, Ra’s. They’re wondering why you’re holed up with your damn experiment because you won’t tell them about the Lazarus Pit. They think you’re a crazy old man – which they’re right about by the way – trying to dabble in hocus pocus.”

Ra’s sneers. “I’ve already told the appropriate people to spread the word that I’m researching –”

“Ok sure, but I still think they should hear it from the horse’s mouth. Not that you’d know because you never go out, but there’s been like this weird, I don’t know – tension. Something big’s going to happen, Ra’s. I just feel it.”

“Fascinating,” drawls Ra’s, obviously disinterested. “Now, can we hurry up and start the experiment? I need to sedate you.”

“Look, can’t we, I don’t know, just postpone it for a bit? I just have a really bad feeling –”

“As I’ve said,” says Ra’s, annoyance seeping into his voice, “time is of the essence, Jason. Now, sweet dreams.” The needle plunges in before Jason can say anything else.

“ _Ow_. You’re a real piece of work, Ra’s,” growls Jason, grimacing as the world begins to blur. Ra’s smirks at him haughtily. He says something indistinct as Jason sinks into the mattress, but the tattered remains of Jason’s concentration fixate only on the vivid hue of Tim’s irises as the world fades out.

~*~*~*~*~

If he dreams, Jason doesn’t recall them. His dreams subsist of a vessel, the shadow of a specter – and yet Jason is haunted by the quirk of his head, the sharp smile and wit of a cunning intellect, the bright blue eyes that neither quite matched Dick’s baby blues nor Jason’s gunmetal ones.

He doesn’t know if he’s chasing the fleeting whisper of Tim’s ghost, or if Jason is simply projecting as he’s dangled like a carrot and string to be fed from Ra’s’ palm. Yet when Jason struggles to imagine a life beyond searching, beyond this city, he realizes with revulsion that Ra’s – to Jason’s loathing – has given him a goal to live on for, even if Tim is truly beyond saving.

When Jason finally stirs, anesthetic wearing off, he blinks the bleariness from his eyes, grimacing at the dull ache in his hip. It takes him time to finally regain his bearings, sitting up to reassess his situation.

The room is empty, save for a plate of food left by his side with water. Jason downs the glass in one gulp, sighing as he rolls onto his good side gingerly.

 “What the hell am I doing?” he mumbles, the pillow muffling his words. Still, he eventually slips out of bed, the silence too unnerving without the presence of one of Ra’s’ ninjas subtly tailing him.

The hallway is empty, but when Jason cocks his ear he can hear the running shouts and the din of orders being shouted further down the corridor. He grimaces at the feel of the residual effects of the anesthetic slowing him down, forging onwards until he nearly collides with Ra’s upon turning the corner.

“Ra’s – what’s happening?” he manages. Ra’s’ ceremonial emerald green mantle is gone, replaced with a dark tactical combat one. “What’s with the wardrobe change?”

“Get back into bed. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Bullshit.” The sound of running footsteps becomes louder. “Is there a riot going on or something?”

“No.” Ra’s shakes his head. “Rather, the drifters I have mentioned in passing. They’re launching a raid tonight in an hour’s time.”

“How do you know?”

“Satellite imaging,” says Ra’s simply, a smug smirk gracing his expression. “Surely you didn’t think the satellite dish was simply just for _show_. No doubt they will be targeting the ground station where the satellite dish is.”

“Where are they coming from? And what makes you so certain that’s their goal?”

“They’re mounting a two-pronged attack on the gate and the southeast wall. The raid on the southern side is probably a diversion so that they can ram down the gates. And the satellite is how we communicate with the other cities I’ve established worldwide. If they take down the ground station, we’ll be disconnected from the network.”

“Wait, you established _other_ cities?”

“As always, you sorely underestimate me, young Jason.” Ra’s lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes. There is one in Nanda Parbat, and a few others that either lie by key geographical elements or close enough to Lazarus Pits that the land can still feed off their power, in spite of their deterioration.”

“Then we need to –”

“ _You_ need to rest,” snaps Ra’s in annoyance.

“Who do you take me for, Ra’s?” Jason places a hand on his hip cockily, utilizing his height to his fullest potential to tower over Ra’s. “Are you really going to tell me that I can’t fight better than any of your men even handicapped like this?”

Ra’s glowers at him. For good measure, Jason adds, “You can try to stop me if you want, but you’re just going to waste precious time and resources.”

A vexed hiss of frustration passes through Ra’s’ lips as they purse in irritation. “Fine. Get to the armory and tell them to outfit you.”

~*~*~*~*~

It’s good to have the security of Kevlar and familiar holsters strapped about his thighs as Jason loads his guns, glancing over the crude map of the city they’ve put together to plot their strategy. He’s defending the southeast wall with Ra’s, the man far too wary to allow him to stray too far in the chaos of battle.

“So you sure I can’t –”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I –”

“The answer is still no. You follow my lead, understand?”

“Sure.” Jason rolls his eyes. Ra’s can fucking bite him if he thinks _that’s_ enough to keep him in line. Still, he tugs on his gloves as he trails after Ra’s, calling, “hey, you never told me what was up with your new sartorial choice.” He indicates the dark black cape with a sweep of his hand. “Last time I checked you’d just shuck off your fancy ass cape off and start duking it out.”

“It’s far more practical,” sniffs Ra’s.

“Whoa, _the_ Demon’s Head is suddenly telling me he’s going for practicality rather than his usual ostentatiousness?” Jason gawks at him. “Last I checked you wanted to eradicate humanity for your whole whacked up social Darwinist ideology.”

“Times have changed. And when they change, you must change as well.” Ra’s shoulders past him, leaving Jason alone to stare at the fluttering edges of his black cowl.

“Well, sure,” says Jason a little helplessly to the empty air, “but this is coming from the guy who formed a whole ninja league for over ten thousand years and couldn’t decide on a fucking heir because he refused to kick the bucket.”

~*~*~*~*~

Jason vaults into the fray, bullets whistling past him as he bodily slams a man into the ground. Not even one step behind him, Ra’s bodily flings a man off the parapets, not even sparing a second glance as he runs another person through with his sword. Booting the dying man off the ledge, he shakes the blood off his blade with an efficient swing of his wrist.

“We need to burn the fucking ladders, Ra’s!” he yells. He dodges as a fucking _catapult_ showers rock and shrapnel upon them. There are mortars interspersed through the crowd, but he suspects that the raiders have limited artillery, thus forced to build crude but effective weaponry.

“That’s not important right now,” snaps Ra’s, cloak billowing behind him as he disarms a man trying to clamber over the edge. A swift kick of his leg sends the man screaming down to his death. “We need to get to the main gates; they have a battering ram.”

“No fuckin’ shit,” sneers Jason, taking refuge behind a pillar and reloading moments before he reenters the fight. “You sure this ain’t a full fucking assault?” They’re fighting blind, the city engulfed with darkness to reduce the chances of the satellite being hit by artillery fire. Jason growls with the tension, the cords of his muscles straining as he upends one of the ladders with sheer brute force, kicking it into a slow and horrifying descent to crush the invaders unfortunate enough to be under its path.

“Come with me,” snaps Ra’s, tugging him down back to the safety of the ramparts. “You’re being an idiot; you were just anaesthetized hours ago.”

“You kidding? These guys aren’t enough to give me a workout,” sneers Jason, though sweat is beading over his forehead. He follows after as they speed along the fortifications to a section that’s under less duress. “What’s the plan?”

Ra’s smirks at him, icy blue calculating and gleaming like the battle’s already won. “We’re jumping. And then you –” he jabs a thumb at Jason’s Kevlar-covered chest – “Are taking me for a spin.”

_“Hold on tight!” bellowed Jason, adrenaline coursing through his veins as a manic grin covered his face._

_“You are bloody insane, Jason!” yelled Tim, but his arms wrapped tightly about Jason’s waist as Jason revved the engines. Then they were moving, blowing through the crowd of mafia underlings, the rank smell of gunpowder and gasoline prevalent in the dirty back alleys of the city._

_“Blow it, Tim!” he shouted. Jason heard the telltale click of the controlled explosives Tim had rigged up the night before. An ear-shattering boom wracked the ground below them, Jason veering to the side to avoid rocks and wall fragments flying towards them._

_Tim’s arms clutched at him even tighter as Jason popped a wheelie, the bike straining as they sped up a makeshift gangway of cars and rubble, the wind screaming in their ears as the scenery blurred. Then they were soaring, Jason roaring with glee as they burst through the gaping hole in the barricade, weightless for a few, countless seconds. The bike hit the dirt with a dying screech, the smell of burnt rubber and asphalt wafting to their noses. Then Jason gunned the engine once more as they sped into the night._

_“Don’t ever tell me I don’t take you out for a good time, Red!” he yelled victoriously over the wind. He laughed when he felt several expletives hissed into the back of his jacket as they rode free, blood singing with adrenaline._

Jason glances down over the parapet, squinting in the dark to search for the gleam of metal and leather. He looks back at Ra’s.

“You’re serious.”

“Am I known to joke?”

“Just a second ago you were saying I should be careful.”

“And since you seem to be incapable of listening I thought you might appreciate this.” Ra’s quirks an eyebrow at him challengingly.

Jason bares his teeth in a grin. “You have no idea.” He beckons Ra’s, one foot already on the edge of the parapet. “You coming?”

“Of course.” Ra’s neatly joins him, the two of them teetering along the windy edge as the wind gusts strongly in the midst of gunfire. Then to Jason’s surprise, Ra’s wraps a strong arm around him, the scent of jasmine and cinnamon strong as Jason’s hesitation allows Ra’s to grip him solidly despite Jason’s bulkier build. “Hold on tight,” Ra’s calls over the roar of the wind and the battle. Then Ra’s’ body naturally tips without the slightest hesitation over the ledge. He takes Jason with him easily, and Jason is helpless but to follow his gravity.

They fall.

For the fleeting seconds of weightlessness, Jason recalls the folds of a different cape engulfing him, artificial feathers of red and black and borne from fiberglass cloth and carbon fibers. The cape expands, black and stiff with carbon frame wires – the same technology – and Jason lets himself just _hurt_ for that second of freefall until the wind catches the folds of Tim’s cape, breaking their descent as they glide over the heads of the gaping raiders.

“Off you go,” says Ra’s nonchalantly, and drops him.

Jason plummets feet first onto some unfortunate drifter’s head, tucking into a roll as the man hits the ground unconscious. Then before he’s got two feet planted on the ground, he’s already firing, guns blazing as he drops the men closest to him.

“You’re a real bastard!” he yells as Ra’s drops next to him, saber at the ready.

“We’re stealing that one,” Ra’s says, ignoring him as he gestures towards a gleaming bike that’s gunning towards them, the banner of the Rock Crypts flying proudly in the fleeting light of artillery fire.

“Pft.” Jason fires a single shot which clips the man. The raider pitches off the bike with a single, gasping cry. Falling on its side, the motorbike careens to a stop, engine still running as Jason and Ra’s run up to it.

“We could have done so much better than this one,” says Jason scornfully, righting the bike and swinging one leg over to bracket the seat.

“Just shut up and drive,” snaps Ra’s uncharacteristically, holding on to Jason tightly as they speed into the night.

~*~*~*~*~

“So, remind me why exactly we are taking the long route to the front gate?” asks Jason, speeding. The motorbike they’ve stolen isn’t as loud as Jason would have predicted; he imagines that it’s been somewhat modified at the risk of sacrificing speed for stealth.

“They won’t be expecting us; they’ll think it’s one of theirs.”

“Can you take down the banner on the back? I don’t need your sentries shooting us.”

While he can’t see Ra’s’ smirk, Jason can hear it in his voice. “I already informed them that if they happen to spy a rogue bike heading in this direction, it’s probably us.”

Jason just shakes his head and revs the engine harder. “I wouldn’t get so confident if I were you. How much longer to the gate?”

“Ten minutes, give or take. We need to get there before they breach it.”

“Take out the battering ram, kill a bunch, and then retreat back inside? Why do I think it’s going to be harder than how you’re making it sound?” Jason snorts, trying to ignore the heat of Ra’s’ breath against his shoulder, the warmth of the arms wrapped securely around him.

“Considering your determination to prove that you haven’t lost your mobility in spite of the anesthetic, I think we should be fine,” notes Ra’s dryly. “How is your body holding up?”

“Just fine, thanks.” Actually, now that he points it out, Jason _does_ feel slightly lightheaded, but he’s not about to admit that to Ra’s. For another few, precious minutes, there’s nothing but the wind rushing past their ears, the quiet sound of the motor, and the dull, flickering gleam of their head and tail lights.

“Is he really dead?” Jason asks in the expectant silence.

“We’ve been over this, Jason.”

“Then why do you keep taunting me with his shadow?” probes Jason desperately. “All his habits, all his…his…” Jason trails off helplessly.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be clearer than that,” says Ra’s, annoyance clear in his tone. Ahead of them, the noise of battle grow clearer, the dim lights of multiple motorbikes and the resonant sound of gunfire echoing and reflecting into the night. “And I’m afraid we’re out of time; we have a battering ram to take down.”

“You better hold on tight then.” Jason revs the engine once more, gunning right for the crowd of raiders. The bike heads full tilt towards the mob. Jason’s taut grip whitens on the handlebars as he leans forward and almost off the seat in preparation. When someone catches sight of them and cries out an alarm, some scatter preemptively, but most remain steadily clutching the battering ram.

“Now!” roars Jason. Without fail, Ra’s grips him beneath his arms in a viselike hold, his cape flaring outwards to its full potential. With a flexibility that only a Robin would possess, he uses the seat of the motorbike as a launching pad, dragging Jason with him off the bike and into a short glide as the bike slams into the battering ram with an unholy screech and a gust of flames. The people carrying the battering ram cry out in shock and fear, their rhythm jolted as the men in the front section drop it, burdening their compatriots with additional, staggering weight.

Without a signal this time, Ra’s drops Jason, but it’s a short enough fall that Jason lands without difficulty, immediately divesting a man of his weapon with a sharp kick to the shin and a hard chop across the neck that renders the man unconscious. Ra’s lands atop of the battering ram, his sword slashing towards the shocked raiders. However, before they can cut a swath around them, the crowd closes in. Jason manages to fight his way towards Ra’s, the two of them hemmed in against the nearly shattered remnants of the gates.

“Pattern delta!” Jason snaps, body moving instinctively, mapping the best strategy to get himself and Tim – Ra’s out alive while dealing the most damage possible. Before he can rein himself back, to berate himself for yet another unconscious slip, to his shock Ra’s is moving forward, sheathing the saber in a fluid motion as he launches forward. Jason ducks and for those few precious motions it’s _Tim_ , not Ra’s, as the man barrels forward to slam into the nearest drifter. Jason’s right behind to back him up, firing twice in rapid succession to kill the ones with bayonets attached to their weapons. Ra’s snatches up one of the bayonets before it hits the dirt. Yet instead of wielding it with a short thrusting, stabbing motion as Jason would expect, he slams the weighted, blunt end into someone’s stomach, tripping another before falling back in what is undeniably a guard position for the _bō_ for an instant.

“What the hell was that,” growls Jason, driving his elbow into someone’s solar plexus and dodging a bullet that fires too close to him. Yet Ra’s doesn’t hear him over the course of the battle, righting his stance as drops the bayonet to draw his saber once more.

“Get back,” snaps Ra’s, back in his element once more. “They’re not trying to pick up the battering ram anymore; something’s up.”

Pulling his mind back from the easy, senseless state of battle and adrenalin pumping through his veins, Jason catches a pungent whiff that’s not blood or burnt rubber; the acrid stench of smoke.

“Ra’s – we need to –”

“Too late,” Ra’s growls, eyes glittering with fury. Then a green flare, shot from the inner circle of the city, lights up the night, soaring upwards to illuminate the hazy sky.

The satellite dish is burning.

“Back inside, _now_ ,” growls Ra’s, pushing him relentlessly through. A cheer goes up through the army of drifters, already falling back. Jason fires blindly to make sure they’re not trying to attack him and Ra’s as he’s physically dragged back inside the city gates. Once inside, he looks up at the faint, smoking silhouette of the satellite dish, now visible with its glittering, dying embers.

He wonders if _this_ is the final act.

~*~*~*~*~

Three main generators are heavily damaged. The ground station, while not beyond repair, is certain to be out of commission for a long while.

“It was an inside job,” mutters Jason, pacing back and forth relentlessly. “Both the attack on the gate and the southeast wall was a diversion. Ra’s, don’t you think that you’re still underestimating them? They’ve all unified against you. And those bikes – do you know how much fucking petrol they’d need to supply all of them, even if they were designed efficiently? They have a supplier, someone who knows the refining process and knows where to get it–”

“Jason,” snaps Ra’s, visibly irritated as he uses a droplet to test for…something on the petri dish he’s using. “I’m aware, but if you can’t tell, I’m busy right now –” he lets out an aggravated hiss as there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” he calls irritably, spinning his chair around to glare at the ninja who walks in.

“Sir,” he says, bowing. “We’ve set up the two auxiliary generators, and we’ve rounded up all those who are suspect in aiding the drifters.”

“Good. Route the electricity to the lab. Execute the suspects.”

“Sir?” says the ninja, visibly shocked. “But the ground station –”

“The satellite dish will takes months to repair; I need all the power I can get to the lab for the time being. The satellite will still be in space; once we get more material we can work on reconnecting power and fixing the ground station,” snaps Ra’s. “Until then, all additional power goes to the lab, understand?”

“As you wish,” says the ninja, who looks understandingly perturbed as he executes a clumsy bow and walks out.

“Why the lab, though?” asks Jason. “Wouldn’t it be better to use one of the backup generators elsewhere?”

“You think storing bone marrow is that easy?” snorts Ra’s. “Do you realize just how much power freezing them alone takes up, let alone everything else?”

“Right.” Jason huffs. He lets Ra’s be for a few moments, as Ra’s grumbles bitterly to himself when whatever chemical he’s looking for doesn’t show in the petri dish.

“He’s not dead, is he?”

If Ra’s had been a lesser man, Jason thinks Ra’s might have let loose a physical scream of frustration and slammed the table with his fists. Instead, he rises from his chair ominously, towering over where Jason’s leaning back casually in his seat. Jason resists the urge to tense, letting himself appear as casual and relaxed as possible.

“So, tell me, Jason Peter Todd,” says Ra’s al Ghul pleasantly, the proverbial storm Jason is rushing headfirst into intensifying, “what, exactly, has given you any such notion so that I may utterly _quash_ it?”

Jason heaves a sigh, gazing at the stormy twin blue depths of Tim’s irises. He wonder why he’s so calm; by now he’d be rearing up, hackles raised to combat Ra’s’ anger with his own.

“I thought that maybe you were just leading me on, to dangle a carrot in front of me. That if I stayed by your side, there would be a chance to save him.” Jason stares up at him, undeterred by Ra’s’ rage. “But that’s wrong, isn’t it?” He taps his temple. “It’s just you in there, all by yourself, the way it should be. Not two minds residing in the same head.”

“I thought that would have been obvious from the start,” states Ra’s grimly, visibly trying to restrain his temper.

“Pretty much. But then tell me,” says Jason, hating the faint tremor in his voice, “why do you–” he bites his lip.

_Why do you have to quirk your head just like that when you’re curious about something? Why do you share so many habits that he used to have? Not eating or sleeping when you’re fixated on something, and sometimes your speech patterns change with just the faintest inflection, from a classic Arabic accent to a Gotham one, and sometimes when you’re provoked you speak the way he would, why is it sometimes when you’re genuinely happy you smile just like him too, why do you retain his specific skillset beyond just yours, why do you use his technology and ideas, why do you now perform tasks that need you to get your hands dirty, why is it in the beginning you only banished people, why is it you’re sloppier than you used to be in the past, nothing adds up, why do you –_

“When will you realize that you act just like him sometimes?” he asks instead.

“You are delusional.” Ra’s glowers blackly at him.

“No. _You_ are. So, tell me, Ra’s al Ghul,” Jason stands from his chair, glaring him down. “Why does your body instinctually know the move sequence for a unique strike combination Tim and I created together? And while you’ve done a damn amazing job at keeping me in the dark, don’t tell me you have Tim’s memories, because then you’d know _explicitly_ how that scar on his arm he used to have got there.” He stares at him challengingly. “Any guesses?”

Ra’s’ glare is deadly, furious enough to curdle milk. Yet Jason has him right where he wants him. “You say I’m chasing after a ghost, but the way I see it, you’re the one who doesn’t even realize he’s influencing you, one way or another.”

Only sheer reflexes save Jason; he dodges a beaker filled with chemicals that’s launched right at him. It shatters on the floor, spilling its contents.

“Get. Out,” hisses Ra’s through gritted teeth. Jason doesn’t miss the tremor of fear that flits through Ra’s’ eyes. “Timothy Drake is _dead_!”

Jason leaves.

~*~*~*~*~

Ra’s holes himself up, refusing to see Jason or anyone else. With little else to do, Jason roams the city, helps out in some of the repairs where he’s needed. Because Ra’s has locked himself away in his laboratory, he doesn’t bear witness to some of the riots and the undercurrent of anger among the townspeople that Jason sees.

The fact that Ra’s ordered the execution of everyone who was suspected in participating in the ground station’s sabotage doesn’t help either; the marketplace runs amok with whispers and suspicious, wary glances.

“They’re still trying to distribute the drugs?” asks Jason helplessly, as the guards open fire on the motorcyclists who are still shooting thousands of the little pills over the walls where chaos ensues within. The guards try to break the crowd up, but Jason can tell that the townsfolk are becoming progressively more violent, hitting back and tearing at their armor and clothes.

“They don’t give up,” grunts the guard. “They’ve been visiting more frequently at night too; we never know which side of the city they’re targeting next since we lost connection to the satellite.”

Jason exhales tiredly, snagging one of the hard multi-colored pellets from midair when it comes within reach.

“Is it really so incredible?” he asks, examining the drug once more.

The guard sighs. “I had a family, once. What wouldn’t I give to see them again,” he admits honestly. “Only thing stopping me from popping that into my mouth is seeing the damage it does to others.”

“Huh.” Without thinking, Jason hurls it over the battlements, watches the tiny thing become a speck on the horizon before disappearing out of sight.

“That adverse to it, are ya?”

_“Jay, I love you.”_

An ugly, bitter sneer curls the corners of Jason’s mouth.

“I don’t need a drug for the past to haunt me.”

~*~*~*~*~

“You can’t go in,” protest the ninja stationed outside the lab.

“Chill, buddy,” says Jason affably, clapping the ninja on the shoulder more companionably than strictly necessary. “See all this food I got? I can’t eat it by myself. And when was the last time your leader ate? We need to keep him alive, yeah?” He gestures towards the platter he’s balancing on one hand. “You can go eat or something; s’not like he’s going anywhere.”

The ninja glares at him suspiciously. Amending his words, Jason offers, “Oooor you can keep standing there while I go eat with him, that sound good too?” At his silence, he whines, “oh, come _on_ , my arm is going numb, I swear it’s not poisoned.”

Abruptly, the door wrenches open from the inside, Ra’s’ expression completely peeved. “You can come in if it means you’ll stop making such a racket outside.” Jason grins at his victory, saluting the ninja as he saunters in. Ra’s locks the door behind him.

“So, and I’m being completely serious here, was the last time you ate like two days ago? Because I haven’t seen you like, at all.”

“I don’t need food right now,” Ra’s bites back, annoyed.

“Uh huh. Look.” Jason shoves the tray towards Ra’s. “I’d prefer for you to keep up your perfect lab safety and shit like that with no eating in the lab, but obviously you’re going to keep holing yourself up here.”

“I’m close to a breakthrough.”

“Don’t care, that body you’re in isn’t immortal _or_ impervious to lack of nutrition, buddy.” _That_ seems to get Ra’s’ attention, and reluctantly the man sits down to gaze somewhat disapprovingly at the tray of food.

“Oh, stop behaving like a child and just eat it,” huffs Jason, folding his arms. Ra’s glares at him for a moment longer, but at last finally picks up a utensil to start eating. Satisfied, Jason plops himself in the adjacent chair.

“So, why don’t you tell me about your breakthrough?” he asks, grabbing the bowl of grapes and tossing one into his mouth. The crisp, fresh taste makes Jason sigh peacefully.

Ra’s shoots him a dirty look. “You can see for yourself over there,” he says, gesturing with his fork. Jason cranes his neck to turn around; his jaw nearly drops.

“You’ve managed to synthesize it, then?” he manages, gazing at the small, bubbling tank of emerald green fluid.

“Not quite. I’ve worked out a section of the chemical composition, but it’s far from perfect. _That_ is from cultivating more of your bone marrow and harvesting all the minute Lazarus traces from it. It was quite a chore to accumulate that much in such a short time period, I must tell you.” Ra’s sips the tea Jason had provided; he sighs in satisfaction.

“So…you’re trying to literally…cultivate it instead?” Jason tries to wrap his mind around the idea and fails miserably.

“It seems to be working, at least to an extent.” Ra’s indicates the eerie, glowing tank. “However, since it is derived from your stem cells, I’m not entirely sure it’s actually _pure_.”

“So it’s got weird little blood flecks floating around?” Jason raises an eyebrow. “Sounds gross.”

“Possibly. I need to run more tests.” Ra’s sighs, looking worn out. “To be honest, while it does seem to retain some of the Pit’s magical properties, I’m not so sure it’s what I am looking for.”

“How so?”

“Look at it,” Ra’s says, gesturing in frustration. “It lacks the…sentience that the Pit has.”

“Might be a good thing,” notes Jason wryly. Now that he considers it, he remembers the gravitational pull of the Lazarus Pit even in spite of its sickly nature, the all too familiar whispers that once breathed suggestions and thoughts into his receptive mind. The bubbling waters, while still unnerving to him, do indeed lack those haunting, almost malevolent thoughts.

“No.” Ra’s folds his arms together stubbornly. “There is always a price for power, Jason. Madness for longevity. Call it an equivalent exchange, if you will. A universal constant written into the laws of nature.”

“So it’s just a weakened form of the Lazarus magic. Could still help in some form.”

“Only in the interim until a more permanent solution is found,” sighs Ra’s. He gestures at the now empty tray. “Have the servants take it. I need to get back to work.”

“Ra’s –” Jason starts, but the tray is immediately shoved into his hands. Before he knows it, Jason is pushed out the door, the lock clicked and he’s now gazing back at the unimpressed ninja still standing guard.

Jason abruptly dumps the dinner platter into the man’s hands. “He said to tell you to go dispose of that.”

~*~*~*~*~

Jason wakes up to a resounding _blam_ and immediately rolls out of bed, whipping out the gun from beneath his pillow. Shouts and screams are easily audible from beyond his room. He hurries out, scanning the corridor for possible intruders, but all he sees are running, frantic guards.

“It’s another attack! Everyone get to your posts!”

“Fuck,” mutters Jason, feet already pounding against the hardwood floor. He grabs a guard, halting him in his tracks. “Where are they attacking from?” he yells over the noise.

“They’ve surrounded the city!” snaps the guard, breaking loose from his hold.

“Goddammit,” curses Jason, already strapping on his holsters as he speeds out of the building. “Ra’s needs to get his shit together, I swear –” he cuts himself off as he dodges instinctually, watching as a bright rocket flare lights up the sky. He spies the nearest steps leading up to the ramparts and breaks into a sprint, feet pounding up the stairs.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, gazing down at the sight of what he can only describe as an _army_. “They’re sieging us.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Fifty dead, no way of supplies or reinforcements, and they’ve dammed the river. They’re concentrating the majority of their artillery where the crops are, too. So, _Ra’s_ , what are your plans?” Jason crosses his arms. “I’ve seen your people trying to jump your damn wall in order to join the drifters all for the sake of getting another high! We’re prisoners here in your stupid city.”

“He’s right,” admits a ninja, one that Jason learned to recognize by his steadfast silence; it surprises Jason to hear him speak now. “They’ve stopped trying to shoot more of the drug pellets over the walls; they’re trying to incite people to revolt from the inside.”

Ra’s glares at the two of them, visibly displeased at being forcibly dragged from his laboratory. “ _You_ ,” he says, advancing on the ninja, “are one of my _elites_. I can surely trust you and the rest of your squad to be able to deal with a few _drifters_.” He spits the word like it dirties his tongue.

“Except these guys want to talk to you,” says Jason, irritated. “They’ve agreed to a temporary truce if you just fucking _speak_ to them. They don’t just want to fucking destroy the city, if anything they want to have a say in -”

“Ha!” Ra’s spits, eyes livid with rage. “They were cast out for a reason. They were unsuitable, a stain upon the city. I’ll never let them in.”

Jason groans. “Ok, but with a city like this, you have to have another back way out that they don’t know about. We could use it as an escape route if things go south, or at least send people out to get supplies–”

“No.” Ra’s says stubbornly.

“Sir,” offers the ninja quietly. “There…what about the one underground where the –”

“I said _no_.” Ra’s glares at the man ominously. “That is final, do you understand?”

“Wait, so you do have a back way out?” asks Jason incredulously. “Then why won’t you –”

Ra’s hisses at him. “The only other way out they wouldn’t know out is in the deepest cave, I won’t have people traipsing about the Lazarus Pit!” he snarls. “I’ve been keeping it a secret from the guards and the populace; do you really think I’m just going to expose it willy-nilly to god knows how many people with loose tongues?”

“If you don’t, you damn us all if you’re just going to sit here and rot away,” snaps Jason. “If you insist on doing nothing the city _will_ fall eventually.”

“So be it,” hisses Ra’s, eyes nearly slits. “There are other cities; cities I have helped to raise from the dirt. At least the people there will be far more grateful than the rotten ones here.” He whirls; his emerald cape glittering in the faded light. The door slams with a final thud.

Jason glances at the ninja whose face is expressionless as stone. “He’s going fucking crazy, I’ve never seen him like that,” he admits. “Have you?”

The man only offers a silent shake of his head.

~*~*~*~*~

The city is managing to hold out, but rations are depleting quickly. Jason helps organize the city defenses, both he and Ra’s refusing to see other. Ra’s doesn’t order him to come in to donate his blood; Jason assumes the man already has what he needs from him.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of him; Jason sighs as he heaps as much food as can be spared onto another platter, at least until a guard stops him.

“Someone’s already got food for the Demon’s Head.”

“That’s a surprise,” mutters Jason. Ra’s hasn’t done much to curry favors from the rest of the populace, so immersed as he was in his research. Still, he takes the tray for himself, heading towards the laboratory again. “Guess it was one of his ninjas again.”

He wanders idly about the city, taking a longer route to the lab to scout the residential homes; they’re dark and empty. A curfew had been issued, but he wonders if it’s even possible to enforce it. Still, he makes his way to the lab.

There’s no guard.

“Ra’s?” he calls out, on his guard. He sets the tray down on the floor, hands falling to his knife. His hands rest carefully on the door handle; it’s not locked.

“Ra’s?” he asks once again, wrenching the door open. “Shit,” he breathes, eyes wide in horror.

Ra’s is bleeding on the floor, breathing shallowing as tremors wrack his body. A tray of food is already on the table, half eaten, the ninja whom had borne witness to Ra’s’ rage on the verge of breakdown already on the floor, already bleeding out from the knife embedded in his chest, his throat slashed.

“Ra’s,” snaps Jason, helping him into a sitting position and supporting his back. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

“P-poison,” spits Ra’s, coughing weakly. “I…was careless. I forgot…that the Detective’s body lacked my…tolerance.”

“Shit, we need to –”

“Don’t bother,” sneered Ra’s, still gasping for breath. “I have…already regurgitated the worse…of it.”

Jason cringes. There’s a lot of blood; the scene tells him that once Ra’s had shown the first symptoms of the poison and seen his acolyte’s deceit, there had been a struggle, and now the man had paid in blood for it.

“You’re bleeding out,” mutters Jason. “There’s no time, we need to –“

“Get the tank,” snaps Ra’s, breaths coming heavier now, “and help me get to the Pit.”

~*~*~*~*~

The tank is easy enough to unhook from the mess of tubes connected to it, but between trying to carry it under one arm and supporting Tim’s weight on his other arm, Jason struggles to maneuver through the steep corridors leading down to the Lazarus Pit.

“You need to keep awake, Ra’s,” growls Jason. “Talk to me. Tell me…tell me about Talia.”

“Talia al Ghul,” mutters Ra’s, words slurred. “She…chose to die at the Detective’s side…I could have saved her if not for her trademark stubbornness…”

“Right,” mutters Jason, pausing to hike the tank higher up in his grip before continuing. The makeshift bandages are doing nothing to stem the bleeding, and Jason groans as he shuffles step by painstaking step down the steepening stairs. “Go on.”

“A talented assassin; I treated her as I would have…any other, though I could not…bear to raise my hand against her. But her…heart was…weak.”

At long last, they come to the mouth of the cave entrance; suddenly, like seeing it awakens some sort of manic drive in him, Ra’s staggers forward without Jason’s aid. He pitifully stumbles down the steps, reaching desperately for the sickly depths. By the time Jason manages to jog down the steps, Ra’s is splashing desperately into the waters, shouting his frenzied victory to the top of the cavern.

“Ra’s, wait, I haven’t –” Jason indicates the container of the harvested Lazarus waters helplessly, but Ra’s isn’t listening, as he submerges fully into the pit. Jason fumbles at the container helplessly, but he can’t figure out how to open it.

For a few moments that stretch endlessly, there’s no sign. Jason closes his eyes, unable to look at the sickly, unnatural waters.

A gasp of breath. Ra’s breaches the surface, eyes heavily dilated and panicked. Streams of water cling to his hair, to his skin, dazed and bewildered.

“It’s not _working_.” He wades deeper, the panic and the fear in his eyes evident as he clutches the fatal wound. “It’s not _working_ ,” he repeats.

Jason watches what he genuinely does believe could be the final moments of a dead man walking. Ra’s totters forward and collapses with a splash, the emerald green cloak bogging him down, and in that moment, Jason sees the wretched form of Tim, Tim falling forward, collapsing in defeat, Tim going –

“ _We failed Bruce.”_

Yet it’s a different time, a different situation, and Jason wonders if his eyes have been opened of if he’s still seeing phantoms as Ra’s floats close enough for Jason to drag him out of the water.

“I don’t understand,” gasps Ra’s pitifully. “Why isn’t it _working_?” When he opens his bloodshot eyes, pupils dilated, Jason sees a flicker of the same, ill, murky green in those once crystal blue eyes. It’s nauseating.

“It’s over, Ra’s,” sighs Jason. “You gave it your best shot. But it’s over. There’s no recovering from that.”

“Shut up,” growls Ra’s, thrashing weakly, but Jason pins him down. “Shut up, shut up, _SHUT UP_!” he screams, kicking, flailing wildly.

Jason lets him. He lets Ra’s scream out his frustrations, his failures, his anger and agony until Ra’s is hoarse, until the almost-seizures abate before he releases him. Ra’s rolls over onto his side with some difficulty, just breathing raggedly, breaths coming desperately even as he clutches his wound.

“Look,” offers Jason hesitantly. “Coming from a guy who’s seen the other side….dying…isn’t nearly as scary as you think it is.”

No response, only the solemn silence of ragged, gasping breaths and wild, dilated eyes.

“It does suck. And it did hurt. But not as much as you think it would. Like…pulling a tooth. You’re not a god, Ra’s. You’ve done a crazily meticulous job of avoiding death, but…it’s time. Please,” begs Jason, closing his eyes and looking up at the ominous darkness of the cavern roof, wonders if that was how the roof of the Bat Cave would have looked like without its actual bats. “Give him back to me.”

“No,” growls Ra’s, eyes clenching shut as his body thrashes of its own volition. “Stupid boy, do you have any idea of what you’re asking of me?”

“I do. But you know what I know. The Lazarus pits don’t work on you the way they used to anymore. You don’t see what it’s doing to you, Ra’s, but I do. The Lazarus pits give you more madness than longevity.” Jason’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re obsessed with them, Ra’s. The idea of them is destroying you more than any madness they could instill. You’ve lived long enough in fear of death.” Jason opens his eyes, the satellite glinting faintly in the distance. “Isn’t it time you finally confront it?”

“There’s…so much I need to do,” murmurs Ra’s throatily, stirring restlessly, his thrashing slowly abating to restrained tremors. “So much…I haven’t done.”

“You’ve accomplished more than anyone else ever has,” offers Jason quietly. “You survived the bubonic plague. You’ve explored the earth, built an empire. Rebuilt society from the ground up. You were able to rival the greatest people in history, if not surpass some of them.”

Ra’s chuckles distantly. “Napoleon was always an ignorant pig.”

“Right. And…and you matched wits against the two greatest detectives of all time.”

A dry huff, thin as shredded petals. “You loved him.”

“All this time.”

“He loved you too.”

“I know.”

A wispy sigh. “What do you remember of the afterlife? Assuming there is one?”

“I…I don’t remember much. A light. The dark. The cold. And the warmth.”

“The warmth?” murmurs Ra’s, a tired sigh ghosting over his lips.

“Yeah. Not much else, to be honest. The first and final thing I remember was…Talia.”

“Talia,” whispers Ra’s. “My beautiful daughter.”

“Yeah. She’ll be waiting for you, Ra’s.”

“Hmm. No doubt with her mother.” Ra’s’ eyes slowly close, his words slurring, breaths gradually shallowing. “Melisande…I have missed her presence greatly. My love…”

“Talia’s mom?” asks Jason, swallowing thickly.

“Yes…the decades…passed slowly without her by my side.” Ra’s smiles distantly, the furrows of his face gradually easing. “Beloved…I have kept you waiting…”

Jason tilts his head closer, trying to decipher the rest of Ra’s’ words, but when his ear presses close to Ra’s’ mouth, only the haunting silence lingered on.

He wasn’t breathing.

“Fuck. Tim. Tim. Hell.” He cups Tim’s cheeks, fingers trembling, throws himself over his body. “Ra’s. Please don’t take him. Don’t take him away from me again, fuck. _Please_.”

He glances at the murky waters, looks desperately at the canister of bright emerald fluid.

He has nothing else left to lose. He doesn’t know if it’ll work.

“You’re not just a vessel,” he says desperately, trying to convince himself. “You’re in there; I know you are.” He scoops Tim up into his arms, horrified at the way Tim’s head lolls back, lifeless in death. “You wouldn’t have sacrificed yourself if you didn’t think you had a shot at winning, c’mon, _please_ –”

A jagged rock, several hits, and Jason cracks the canister like an egg, lets its contents seep into the Pit. He thinks he sees a flicker of life, but he wonders if that too is his desperate projections, delusions of what he wants to see. He doesn’t know if it’s enough, but he hast to try.

“C’mon, baby,” he says, smiling brokenly at Tim’s prone form. “I haven’t given up on you yet.” He carries Tim’s body into the Pit, not even pausing as he wades in until the water reaches his waist, makes sure Tim’s body doesn’t submerge fully.

A flicker of green. Jason’s soaked fingers clumsily undo the emerald trappings of Ra’s’ cape, allowing the fabric to sink to the bottom.

He feels the glow before he sees it, Tim’s wound gradually closing in the eerie glow of the Pit. For the first time, Jason feels overwhelmed with hope, watches with bated breath as the wound fully heals itself, closing without a scar.

He’s still not awake. No pulse, no breath, no heartbeat.

“C’mon, c’mon,” begs Jason, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes. “You can’t just…we’ve come so far, you can’t just…”

 _“However, since it is derived from your stem cells, I’m not entirely sure it’s actually_ pure _.”_

_“Look at it,” Ra’s says, gesturing in frustration. “It lacks the…sentience that the Pit has.”_

_“Might be a good thing,”_

_“No. There is always a price for power, Jason. Madness for longevity. Call it an equivalent exchange, if you will. A universal constant written into the laws of nature.”_

He looks at the swirling madness, the murky whispers breathing intoxicating dreams and thoughts to life in his head.

 _I made you,_ Jason thinks. _My sentience in exchange for his resurrection._

“Equivalent exchange, yeah?” Jason breaths, smiling. He dips down, pressing a kiss to Tim’s lips that’s long overdue. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting so long,” he whispers.

He takes a final breath and dives.


	2. Epilogue

“You’ll…you’ll meet with them?” the man gazes at him astounded.

“Did you not hear what I say?” He drums his fingers on the counter. “Or do I really have to repeat myself again?”

“No. Of course not. Will you require your ceremonial –”

“That won’t be necessary.”

A bow. “Of course. Do you require anything else, sir?”

“Perhaps…a few minutes to myself would be nice.”

“Of course, sir.” The man bows, and exits.

Tim heaves a sigh, gazing heavenward. The satellite dish is still damaged, but extra parts are already on the way; he’s just sent more men to gather reinforcements from the other cities.

He gazes at the map, considers all the strategic parts of the city that could be sacrificed, creates several hypothetical situations where the drifters will be forced to accede to his terms.

_You could crush them. Make them yours. You could become a conqueror –_

**_No_ ** _._

“Thank you, Jay,” Tim says unto the darkness. The maddening green whispers that tug at the fringes of his sanity fade, quelled by a familiar mental voice, rough and low like a raspy breath, a mental trigger cocked and primed. It fights away the shadows, a battle cry in death to keep the dark at bay.

_“Anytime, bird brain.”_

He thinks the breeze that tousles his hair and tugs at his robes is the feeling of being embraced.

He easily leaps down the ramparts, smiling wryly at the shocked guards when he straightens, feels the thrill in his chest and the way his heart beats wildly at the joy of being alive.

“Now, let’s give them a warm welcome, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'aburnee (Arabic): literally meaning 'you bury me', this is the hope that a person or loved one will outlive you as to spare yourself the pain of living life beyond that person.
> 
> Phew...standing at a little over 38 pages...this is the longest thing i've ever written that's officially completed. Anyway, since it's angst, i figured that well...I probs shouldn't post it on xmas, lol. 
> 
> For those of you who don't know me I procrastinate a lot on [tumblr](http://rivetingfabrications.tumblr.com/) so find me there (it's randomly nsfw you've been warned.)
> 
> Kudos, comments, anything is always greatly appreciated :3


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